Although I've known this for years, it only seems fair to say to the city of my birth - I'm too good for you.
I'll always love Sudbury. To some extent, it will always be home to me. It's the place where my family lives. It hosts a load of familiar places, faces, smells and sights. It's where a quarter of a century's worth of memories were made. But at the same time, it just doesn't seem the same, you know? It's like those TV shows where you see a grown child staying with his or her parents, in their old childhood bedroom which has been kept exactly as it was when they were teenagers. Everytime I go back, I feel older, wiser, and in all honesty, too good for Sudbury.
So, it would seem odd that we're looking to move back in a few months, wouldn't it?
Well, like I said, it's the place where my family lives. Edmonton is booming too big and it's going to crumble under its own growth soon enough. And I don't want to be one of its casulties. So that's part of the reason. I mean, if we lose the house, we lose how much money, above and beyond what is still outstanding on the mortgage? Not to mention, like we can truly afford 1400 a month in daycare, and there's no way we can survive out here without two incomes. Everywhere you look, there's a "day home", and the prevelance of them all doesn't make me comfortable thinking that they're being watched properly or licensed accordingly. That and you get what you pay for, and G Jr has enjoyed and learned so much at his current daycare, that I would be conflicted with the idea of pulling him and placing the two of them in some other care center.
Yet still, Sudbury thinks its all that and a bag of chips, so I'm sure that I'll have trouble as I did before finding decent work. But this time, I plan on being a bitch. I'd like to see someone try to say that I don't have experience now. 2.5 years of keeping the training department of an international computer company's office in Edmonton afloat, providing various levels of training to people of various degrees of technical knowledge (and IQ, I swear) on various technologies and skills? Yeah, I may not have the experience to be a brain surgeon, but I'd love for them to prove I don't have the skills to be a tech. Plus, I'm loving how that since my departure, the training department in Edmonton has become the laughing stock of the head office of my old employer >:) What can I say? The only person who didn't understand that I was the best damned thing they had was my boss. Even the head office is saying "If we had Menerva there, we'd be able to do that." I'm LOVING that! Mind you, that and a buck won't get me a coffee.
And I already know how it's going to go. We've told everyone out there that this isn't a permenant thing. That if Sudbury doesn't work out again, we're off to wherever we can make things work. If that means Edmonton again, then so be it. Could be anywhere between BC and the east coast. The plan is at least to stick around the Sudbury area for at least 3 to 5 years. The first few months, people will be all excited that we're back. There will be phone calls, visits, etc. And then after that, it'll wane horribly, to the point where if we don't instigate the calls or visits, they'll barely happen. They'll take for granted that we're here, and people will go back to contacting us because Gunther has a truck and they could use his help, or if their computer is on the fritz, and then they'll be shocked as hell when we say we're packing up and moving again. How do I know this will happen? Cause I know our families, and its exactly how they reacted to our original move to Edmonton. Plus, it's how we get treated to some extent now. Phone calls grow short and far apart, visits are limited... And we still want to move back? Well, we're doing it more for the little G's. They deserve to know their family. I can put up with being ignored... I know that they wouldn't ignore them.
Over the years I've developed a stronger introverted, self sufficent personality. And I think it'll get stronger when I move back. And perhaps I'm just being bitter and pessimistic but I'd rather think of it as realistic and jaded. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, own the company. Gunther and I have survived this long without our families around, and could do so for years longer. While I still need them, I haven't been dependant on any of them for ages. I think it's just that I feel bad that I don't feel they need me.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
33 weeks and TMI
We're finally in the "calm down and wait" stage. No longer am I going in for weekly ultrasounds to ensure that my cervix isn't shortening further, and my doctor's taking a relaxed approach to my visits, treating me as if I were a normal pregnancy at this point. Reason for all of this is that if GIII were to be born today, he's have an extremely high chance of making it unscathed. With that being said, if I go into the hospital, they're not stopping labour on me this time.
Now, this is where it gets interesting. GIII is give or take 4 lbs 3 oz according to my last ultrasound. Mind you, that's give or take nearly 7 oz, so I'm going to guess closer to 4.5. Still, that's all within norms. However, they're telling me that GIII's small (between 10th and 50th percentile)! And they're telling me that G Jr was small when he was born! He was 7 lbs 1 oz at 39 weeks 1 day. Sure, a far cry from the 8 to 10 pounders common nowadays, but by no means small. And no one would dare say he's a small kid now, given the fact that he's a 40+ pound, solid and sturdy 3 year old. He's been confused with kids 1 to 2 years older than him.
Because of that, and the fact that my OB still doesn't want to bet money on me making it to my scheduled C-section, he's trying to talk me into trying VBAC. If there is anything that has made my being a patient of his more of a pain in the backside than anything, its the fact that I'm extremely well informed. I know what VBAC is, the risks associated with it, the percentages of sucessess and failures, the requirements for a good candidate, etc. And you know what? I won't kid anyone and say that I don't want to try going "normally". Just the prospect of not having to put up with 6 weeks of recovery from an abdominal wound would be worth it. But given the discussion I had with my OB back in Sudbury at my checkup after G Jr was born, I'm leary of the idea.
My labour was, in a word, scary. The nurses were spooked by it, saying it mimicked an induction gone horribly wrong. In active labour, when there is supposed to be breaks in between contractions and only 1 peak in your "textbook" example, I had contraction on contraction on contraction, and they had to adjust the monitor to actually read how high it was rating. That, coupled with the fact that G Jr still remained high in my pelvis (barely to say engaged) and that when they had to perform the C-section, the doctor noted that the muscle that they cut into was thinner than he would have liked, my OB suggested that I not try giving birth vaginally at term. We never did discuss preterm delivery (cause it was never speculated that I was going to have the trouble I did), but he did specifially say "term". I believe this to mean a 5 to 7+ pounder. Preterm, well... We know I can do that. And my current OB keeps reminding me that I have delivered vaginally in the past. And I keep reminding him that Menerva Jr was a mere 1 lb 14 oz. I don't think that counts as a true vaginal delivery. Not to sound crude, but I could have sneezed and delivered her at that size.
And lets face it, with my luck, I'd be one of those women who would rupture or require a histroectmy (spelling?). I'm not trying to focus on that, but it's hard not to have those fleeting thoughts when GIII decides he's going to stretch out and I feel the twang against the old scar. No one can tell me exactly why I can feel that or why it feels like my pelvic bone is vibrating when he's sitting against the scarline (I keep being told that I shouldn't feel anything in the area of my scar). But it's hard to ignore it at times, and Gunther has given me a few of the weirdest looks when he sees me nearly jump out of my chair when one of those sensations hits.
Mind you, I still have a number of weeks to go. And GIII hasn't tried any other escapes (although a small part of me still wishes he would so I could stop all of this worrying). So if I can make it to Sept 10, or otherwise talk my OB into seeing things my way, it should be good.
Now, this is where it gets interesting. GIII is give or take 4 lbs 3 oz according to my last ultrasound. Mind you, that's give or take nearly 7 oz, so I'm going to guess closer to 4.5. Still, that's all within norms. However, they're telling me that GIII's small (between 10th and 50th percentile)! And they're telling me that G Jr was small when he was born! He was 7 lbs 1 oz at 39 weeks 1 day. Sure, a far cry from the 8 to 10 pounders common nowadays, but by no means small. And no one would dare say he's a small kid now, given the fact that he's a 40+ pound, solid and sturdy 3 year old. He's been confused with kids 1 to 2 years older than him.
Because of that, and the fact that my OB still doesn't want to bet money on me making it to my scheduled C-section, he's trying to talk me into trying VBAC. If there is anything that has made my being a patient of his more of a pain in the backside than anything, its the fact that I'm extremely well informed. I know what VBAC is, the risks associated with it, the percentages of sucessess and failures, the requirements for a good candidate, etc. And you know what? I won't kid anyone and say that I don't want to try going "normally". Just the prospect of not having to put up with 6 weeks of recovery from an abdominal wound would be worth it. But given the discussion I had with my OB back in Sudbury at my checkup after G Jr was born, I'm leary of the idea.
My labour was, in a word, scary. The nurses were spooked by it, saying it mimicked an induction gone horribly wrong. In active labour, when there is supposed to be breaks in between contractions and only 1 peak in your "textbook" example, I had contraction on contraction on contraction, and they had to adjust the monitor to actually read how high it was rating. That, coupled with the fact that G Jr still remained high in my pelvis (barely to say engaged) and that when they had to perform the C-section, the doctor noted that the muscle that they cut into was thinner than he would have liked, my OB suggested that I not try giving birth vaginally at term. We never did discuss preterm delivery (cause it was never speculated that I was going to have the trouble I did), but he did specifially say "term". I believe this to mean a 5 to 7+ pounder. Preterm, well... We know I can do that. And my current OB keeps reminding me that I have delivered vaginally in the past. And I keep reminding him that Menerva Jr was a mere 1 lb 14 oz. I don't think that counts as a true vaginal delivery. Not to sound crude, but I could have sneezed and delivered her at that size.
And lets face it, with my luck, I'd be one of those women who would rupture or require a histroectmy (spelling?). I'm not trying to focus on that, but it's hard not to have those fleeting thoughts when GIII decides he's going to stretch out and I feel the twang against the old scar. No one can tell me exactly why I can feel that or why it feels like my pelvic bone is vibrating when he's sitting against the scarline (I keep being told that I shouldn't feel anything in the area of my scar). But it's hard to ignore it at times, and Gunther has given me a few of the weirdest looks when he sees me nearly jump out of my chair when one of those sensations hits.
Mind you, I still have a number of weeks to go. And GIII hasn't tried any other escapes (although a small part of me still wishes he would so I could stop all of this worrying). So if I can make it to Sept 10, or otherwise talk my OB into seeing things my way, it should be good.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Does this make me a bad person?
There are a load of kids that live around here, however, the closest in G Jr's age and location happens to be a 4 year old that lives next door... And does it make me a bad person if I want to throttle the little twerp every time I have the displeasure of seeing her?
Well, perhaps I should explain a bit more before you make that decission.
She's the second youngest of the insane family that lives next door to me. We have the mid 40's father, his common-law second wife who's the 24 year old best friend of his step daughter, his 14 year old daughter from his first marriage who the neighbourhood kids and parents are calling the lesbian wannabe, the 10 year old jackass boy fromt he first marriage who has no conscious or care of what his actions do to others, the 4 year old lippy bossy twerp from this odd union, and the 2 year old girl from this union as well who's normally found running around the back yard in the nude and has already been brought to the hospital once last year for eating paint when no one was looking. Then there's their yappy dog that I could cheerfuly shoot when it wakes me up in the middle of the night. But that thing's another story, as is the encounters I've had with the rest of them. We'll stick with H, the 4 year old.
If I've learned anything, its that regardless of how well you raise your own children, you face the threat of having all your hard work thwarted by everyone else's kids. While I will never say that G Jr is the most polite and thoughtful child of his age (cause I know he's just a kid and being rude and selfish comes with the territory), he's honestly a good kid. And I'm not saying that cause I'm biased either. Although we still need to remind him on occasion, he does remember to say please and thank you most times. He does share, even though sometimes he needs to be prodded to do so. He doesn't like it when he knows someone's hurting and wants to help. And he is a very loyal friend to those he enjoys being around. For example, a boy that lives 2 doors down (one of our friends' kids), G Jr has loved since they first played together. Sure, the kid's 8 and doesn't always want to play with a 3 year old. But he's good with G Jr, and G Jr thinks the world of him. It's actually quite sweet to see them playing together, cause our friends' kid will do his best to limit what he's doing to involve G Jr, like playing kickball without kicking it over his head, or having bike races and he lets G Jr win :) It's going to be fun to see that kid when he's older... I just have a feeling he'll be good with his own kids when he has them.
Now, G Jr will do what he can to make his friends happy (much to my dislike at times). Being the youngest one running around, not all the kids want to play with him all the time. And that upsets him. At least once a day he comes into the house crying cause the other kids don't want to play with him, and while I don't try to baby him, I do usually get him to either play by himself with some of his toys, or get him to calm down by watching a cartoon. It makes me feel bad because I know that these kids are snubbing the best friend they could ask for (yeah, perhaps I'm slightly biased there), but I also understand how much I didn't want my sister tagging along with me when I was with my friends, so I can see how G Jr would be like that to others.
So that's where H comes in... Being close to G Jr's age, the two of them play often... And I can't very well tell him he can't, even though I really, really want to.
Like I said, G Jr's a pretty good kid. He's got his moments, sure. But what progress has been made in his politeness and acceptable behavious has been thwarted by this twerp. She has the respect for authority (read: her parents) as a criminal has for the police. She's extremely manipulative, bossy and a control freak. For example, her and G Jr will be playing outside, and if G Jr doesn't relinquish control of a toy of his that she wants to play with, then she'll throw a fit or go inside until G Jr's willing to give into her way. She comes over to our house to ask G Jr if he wants to play, and invites herself in, or tries to tell us that her parents said she can come with us if we're going out or join in our dinner if we're eating. Yesterday she tried to invite herself to sleep here. Gunther and I would much prefer not to have her anywhere near G Jr or us, so it's not like we've ever given her the idea that she could tag along on rides or sleep here.
But what gets my goat the most? How G Jr is now emulating her disregard for her parents' wishes. G Jr has been pushing boundaries. For example, he knows how far and where he's allowed to go on his bike. And yesterday I had to go chasing after him (Gunther got called out to do a server move) down the back laneway because H thought it would be a good idea to go biking down to the end and back and stopped on the way to say hi to some guy working in his back yard about 10 houses down. Yeah, so that good and pissed me off, cause he ignored me calling him (the twerp was heard to say "It's your Mom, just ignore her, she's coming this way anyways."), and cause afterwards, I started cramping up from movement and I'm sure stress. But then there was when he came in after that cause I wasn't letting him run amok outside when I can't go chasing after him. Told him that because he couldn't stay where I could see him, then he was staying inside and no, H was not coming in. He could watch TV, play with his puzzles or toys, whatever he wanted to do. So long as he was inside. And what did he do? The same thing I've seen H do a number of times. Open the front door and say over his shoulder that he didn't have to listen!
And that attitude continued all night, even after Gunther got back from his service call. But 90% of it was directed at me (as H's is always directed at her mother's). It took me a few hours to calm down after all that last night, because I mean, how do you correct this issue without removing the problem? And I can't very well do that without breaking the law. If G Jr's outside, it's likely H is outside too. And like I need to have that fight if I tell G Jr he's not allowed to play with her. Either he'll throw a fit, or the crazy neighbours will be a pain in the ass moreso than they've been lately.
So here's what we're doing... Although it wasn't decided last night (we've been throwing this idea back and forth since I got pregnant with GIII and it officially solidified shortly after I was discharged from the hospital after being in there for a week), we're moving back to Sudbury after GIII's born and settled. It may seem a little drastic to move half way across the country to get away from a family of nutcases, but they're only a small part of the reason. The rest of it stems from a number of things, such as the fact that our families have got a lot smaller since we moved out here (recent additions to the list would be now both of my grandparents on my Mom's side, Gunther's Mother, and soon will be his grandpa), the profit we make off this place could afford us a better place in Sudbury and possibly mortgage free, and the free babysitting would be nice. Plus, we've done the math and if things work out, we could live on one decent income (which shouldn't be hard for Gunther to get), and so that would save us a load of money because we wouldn't be spending my paycheck to put the kids in daycare.
Besides, it's more legal than what I'd prefer to do... Unless I can claim Darwin's theory for stomping out an entire gene pool, it's best to leave the nutcases in Alberta and hope they don't travel east.
Well, perhaps I should explain a bit more before you make that decission.
She's the second youngest of the insane family that lives next door to me. We have the mid 40's father, his common-law second wife who's the 24 year old best friend of his step daughter, his 14 year old daughter from his first marriage who the neighbourhood kids and parents are calling the lesbian wannabe, the 10 year old jackass boy fromt he first marriage who has no conscious or care of what his actions do to others, the 4 year old lippy bossy twerp from this odd union, and the 2 year old girl from this union as well who's normally found running around the back yard in the nude and has already been brought to the hospital once last year for eating paint when no one was looking. Then there's their yappy dog that I could cheerfuly shoot when it wakes me up in the middle of the night. But that thing's another story, as is the encounters I've had with the rest of them. We'll stick with H, the 4 year old.
If I've learned anything, its that regardless of how well you raise your own children, you face the threat of having all your hard work thwarted by everyone else's kids. While I will never say that G Jr is the most polite and thoughtful child of his age (cause I know he's just a kid and being rude and selfish comes with the territory), he's honestly a good kid. And I'm not saying that cause I'm biased either. Although we still need to remind him on occasion, he does remember to say please and thank you most times. He does share, even though sometimes he needs to be prodded to do so. He doesn't like it when he knows someone's hurting and wants to help. And he is a very loyal friend to those he enjoys being around. For example, a boy that lives 2 doors down (one of our friends' kids), G Jr has loved since they first played together. Sure, the kid's 8 and doesn't always want to play with a 3 year old. But he's good with G Jr, and G Jr thinks the world of him. It's actually quite sweet to see them playing together, cause our friends' kid will do his best to limit what he's doing to involve G Jr, like playing kickball without kicking it over his head, or having bike races and he lets G Jr win :) It's going to be fun to see that kid when he's older... I just have a feeling he'll be good with his own kids when he has them.
Now, G Jr will do what he can to make his friends happy (much to my dislike at times). Being the youngest one running around, not all the kids want to play with him all the time. And that upsets him. At least once a day he comes into the house crying cause the other kids don't want to play with him, and while I don't try to baby him, I do usually get him to either play by himself with some of his toys, or get him to calm down by watching a cartoon. It makes me feel bad because I know that these kids are snubbing the best friend they could ask for (yeah, perhaps I'm slightly biased there), but I also understand how much I didn't want my sister tagging along with me when I was with my friends, so I can see how G Jr would be like that to others.
So that's where H comes in... Being close to G Jr's age, the two of them play often... And I can't very well tell him he can't, even though I really, really want to.
Like I said, G Jr's a pretty good kid. He's got his moments, sure. But what progress has been made in his politeness and acceptable behavious has been thwarted by this twerp. She has the respect for authority (read: her parents) as a criminal has for the police. She's extremely manipulative, bossy and a control freak. For example, her and G Jr will be playing outside, and if G Jr doesn't relinquish control of a toy of his that she wants to play with, then she'll throw a fit or go inside until G Jr's willing to give into her way. She comes over to our house to ask G Jr if he wants to play, and invites herself in, or tries to tell us that her parents said she can come with us if we're going out or join in our dinner if we're eating. Yesterday she tried to invite herself to sleep here. Gunther and I would much prefer not to have her anywhere near G Jr or us, so it's not like we've ever given her the idea that she could tag along on rides or sleep here.
But what gets my goat the most? How G Jr is now emulating her disregard for her parents' wishes. G Jr has been pushing boundaries. For example, he knows how far and where he's allowed to go on his bike. And yesterday I had to go chasing after him (Gunther got called out to do a server move) down the back laneway because H thought it would be a good idea to go biking down to the end and back and stopped on the way to say hi to some guy working in his back yard about 10 houses down. Yeah, so that good and pissed me off, cause he ignored me calling him (the twerp was heard to say "It's your Mom, just ignore her, she's coming this way anyways."), and cause afterwards, I started cramping up from movement and I'm sure stress. But then there was when he came in after that cause I wasn't letting him run amok outside when I can't go chasing after him. Told him that because he couldn't stay where I could see him, then he was staying inside and no, H was not coming in. He could watch TV, play with his puzzles or toys, whatever he wanted to do. So long as he was inside. And what did he do? The same thing I've seen H do a number of times. Open the front door and say over his shoulder that he didn't have to listen!
And that attitude continued all night, even after Gunther got back from his service call. But 90% of it was directed at me (as H's is always directed at her mother's). It took me a few hours to calm down after all that last night, because I mean, how do you correct this issue without removing the problem? And I can't very well do that without breaking the law. If G Jr's outside, it's likely H is outside too. And like I need to have that fight if I tell G Jr he's not allowed to play with her. Either he'll throw a fit, or the crazy neighbours will be a pain in the ass moreso than they've been lately.
So here's what we're doing... Although it wasn't decided last night (we've been throwing this idea back and forth since I got pregnant with GIII and it officially solidified shortly after I was discharged from the hospital after being in there for a week), we're moving back to Sudbury after GIII's born and settled. It may seem a little drastic to move half way across the country to get away from a family of nutcases, but they're only a small part of the reason. The rest of it stems from a number of things, such as the fact that our families have got a lot smaller since we moved out here (recent additions to the list would be now both of my grandparents on my Mom's side, Gunther's Mother, and soon will be his grandpa), the profit we make off this place could afford us a better place in Sudbury and possibly mortgage free, and the free babysitting would be nice. Plus, we've done the math and if things work out, we could live on one decent income (which shouldn't be hard for Gunther to get), and so that would save us a load of money because we wouldn't be spending my paycheck to put the kids in daycare.
Besides, it's more legal than what I'd prefer to do... Unless I can claim Darwin's theory for stomping out an entire gene pool, it's best to leave the nutcases in Alberta and hope they don't travel east.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Street Freak
I'm sure my neighbours think I'm clinically insane now. Meh, like I care.
It's been extremely warm here these past few weeks (well, extremely warm for Northern Alberta), and we've been at "risk" for thunderstorms since this heatwave started. And until tonight, nothing really came of these warnings. A few raindrops, a bit of wind, but nothing much. Then, the wind ripped the screen out of my bedroom window (that makes another screen I have to replace, damnit) and the rain started to come down. As Gunther was looking out the window, he realized a problem. He forgot to put the spouts down on the eves, and was not looking forward to getting drenched in order to do it. At this I scoffed, grabbed a towel, and headed outside.
What should have been an in and out job (two spouts, 20 feet from the door) tuned into a 15 minute frolic in the front yard as it poured. G Jr got the guts to join me (crouched down so the water wouldn't run down the back of his shirt), and the two of us splashed bare foot on the sidewalk while Gunther laughed.
And now I'm back inside, drying off, and realizing it was a much better temprature outside, regardless of how wet it was. But I can't sneek out until G Jr goes to bed, or I'll have a three year old tagging along. However, I can't blame him. I felt like a kid again doing that.
It's been extremely warm here these past few weeks (well, extremely warm for Northern Alberta), and we've been at "risk" for thunderstorms since this heatwave started. And until tonight, nothing really came of these warnings. A few raindrops, a bit of wind, but nothing much. Then, the wind ripped the screen out of my bedroom window (that makes another screen I have to replace, damnit) and the rain started to come down. As Gunther was looking out the window, he realized a problem. He forgot to put the spouts down on the eves, and was not looking forward to getting drenched in order to do it. At this I scoffed, grabbed a towel, and headed outside.
What should have been an in and out job (two spouts, 20 feet from the door) tuned into a 15 minute frolic in the front yard as it poured. G Jr got the guts to join me (crouched down so the water wouldn't run down the back of his shirt), and the two of us splashed bare foot on the sidewalk while Gunther laughed.
And now I'm back inside, drying off, and realizing it was a much better temprature outside, regardless of how wet it was. But I can't sneek out until G Jr goes to bed, or I'll have a three year old tagging along. However, I can't blame him. I felt like a kid again doing that.
32, finally
Closer and closer every day... And I'm getting a tad excited about it being all over and finally meeting this guy. Not to mention, to be able to walk without feeling like my pelvis is going to split in two. Same problem I had when I was pregnant with G Jr. I swear I was going to snap in half. But then again, I didn't feel that way until about 36 weeks along. Plus, I carried G Jr. more outward than I'm carrying GIII. Still got a big belly, but comparing my current stature to photos from the same time period when I was pregnant with G Jr, and my belly stood out a lot further the first time around. GIII is more up and down.
It wouldn't surprise me if I wasn't suffering from overly slack bones at the moment. There's a technical term for it, but damned if I can remember it at the moment. My neck seems to crack and pop moreso than before, and I swear that when I try to stretch my arms and chest, I can sometimes feel my ribs pull apart ever so slightly. That might also just be me being a tad over sensitive to my own current state. Not like I have a load to focus on when I can't move around.
My stamina has gone straight down the tubes. I've been allowed to do a little more activity than before, considering I'm closer to my due date than they figured I'd get, plus the fact that my cervix has behaved all this time. So on Saturday, I walked from the car to the bookstore to get myself a copy of the new Harry Potter book. All of maybe 50 feet? And I had to sit after I paid for the book (good thing the food court is right outside of the bookstore in the mall we went to). I remember doing groceries the day before G Jr was born. Although my back hurt (little did I know that I was in early labor), I had the stamina to go up and down all the isles and push the cart. And now I can't even walk from the car to the bookstore. A part of me (the part that's hating the heat at the moment, oddly enough) hopes the weather stays nice for quite some time, so that when I bring GIII home, I can take him in a stroller for walks and hopefully regain some of my pep. Yeah, I wasn't an energetic individual before all this. My motto was "Running is an unnatural act, except from enemies or to the bathroom." But this getting winded and dizzy walking BS is driving me nuts. And its really not helping the bedrest thing. I don't think it would bother me so much if I could get off bedrest and be able to go back to normal. Knowing that I can't irks me, especially considering how much energy I'll need with two boys under one roof.
We took G Jr to one of my ultrasound appointments so he could see his brother. He knows his brother is in Mommy's tummy, but he doesn't seem to believe it much. So we thought it would help him believe and understand it. And so, Gunther brings him into the room after the technician checked out all they had to. First thing out of G Jr's mouth? "Where's the knife to make the hole in your tummy Mom?" So much for the 3 days of explaining to him how ultrasounds work. But when the tech was showing him his brother, he got all quiet like when he met my friend's newborn. She did a good job of making him understand what he was seeing. GIII had his hand up infront of his face, and she told him that he was giving him a high 5. G Jr smiled and high 5'ed the air towards the monitor. Mind you, after the experience, I wished I brought him in months earlier to see his brother, when there was more room for his brother to move and so he'd get a better image. However, since then, he's hugged my belly daily out of the blue. He still keeps asking when his brother will come, so his concept of time hasn't improved, but he's getting more excited.
And so am I for reasons mentioned above... Mind you, that will change afterwards and I'll be excited to get a full night's sleep.
It wouldn't surprise me if I wasn't suffering from overly slack bones at the moment. There's a technical term for it, but damned if I can remember it at the moment. My neck seems to crack and pop moreso than before, and I swear that when I try to stretch my arms and chest, I can sometimes feel my ribs pull apart ever so slightly. That might also just be me being a tad over sensitive to my own current state. Not like I have a load to focus on when I can't move around.
My stamina has gone straight down the tubes. I've been allowed to do a little more activity than before, considering I'm closer to my due date than they figured I'd get, plus the fact that my cervix has behaved all this time. So on Saturday, I walked from the car to the bookstore to get myself a copy of the new Harry Potter book. All of maybe 50 feet? And I had to sit after I paid for the book (good thing the food court is right outside of the bookstore in the mall we went to). I remember doing groceries the day before G Jr was born. Although my back hurt (little did I know that I was in early labor), I had the stamina to go up and down all the isles and push the cart. And now I can't even walk from the car to the bookstore. A part of me (the part that's hating the heat at the moment, oddly enough) hopes the weather stays nice for quite some time, so that when I bring GIII home, I can take him in a stroller for walks and hopefully regain some of my pep. Yeah, I wasn't an energetic individual before all this. My motto was "Running is an unnatural act, except from enemies or to the bathroom." But this getting winded and dizzy walking BS is driving me nuts. And its really not helping the bedrest thing. I don't think it would bother me so much if I could get off bedrest and be able to go back to normal. Knowing that I can't irks me, especially considering how much energy I'll need with two boys under one roof.
We took G Jr to one of my ultrasound appointments so he could see his brother. He knows his brother is in Mommy's tummy, but he doesn't seem to believe it much. So we thought it would help him believe and understand it. And so, Gunther brings him into the room after the technician checked out all they had to. First thing out of G Jr's mouth? "Where's the knife to make the hole in your tummy Mom?" So much for the 3 days of explaining to him how ultrasounds work. But when the tech was showing him his brother, he got all quiet like when he met my friend's newborn. She did a good job of making him understand what he was seeing. GIII had his hand up infront of his face, and she told him that he was giving him a high 5. G Jr smiled and high 5'ed the air towards the monitor. Mind you, after the experience, I wished I brought him in months earlier to see his brother, when there was more room for his brother to move and so he'd get a better image. However, since then, he's hugged my belly daily out of the blue. He still keeps asking when his brother will come, so his concept of time hasn't improved, but he's getting more excited.
And so am I for reasons mentioned above... Mind you, that will change afterwards and I'll be excited to get a full night's sleep.
Monday, July 16, 2007
31
You know, I never thought I'd make it this far. Especially considering last week's fiasco. But here I am, 31 weeks, and GIII's still in there. He's still facing my back, which means I don't get to feel as many of the movements I normally would, but he does enjoy stretching so I can for sure feel that.
And I've finally gone past my fear of buying stuff for his arrival and did some shopping. G Jr's playpen was falling apart as he was getting too big for it, so I really didn't want to reuse it with GIII. And then Toys R Us had one on sale that has the top cover (which is a good "keep the cats out" cover), so I bit the bullet and bought it. And, on top of having that cover thing, it has one thing I would have given my left eye for when G Jr was an infant - an attachable higher level bottom. You know, like with a crib, where you can have the bottom of it raised higher so you don't have to pretty much get into the thing to get your child out of it? Oh gosh, I would have loved that, at least when I was recovering from the c-section. Remember I'm short... the top of the playpen was level with my scar. I had to get on my tiptoes to get G Jr out of the playpen until he was old enough to sit up.
So, 31 weeks... I'm glad. You know what? I'll shock the heck out of everyone and go to term. Or I'll try. But here's hoping he doesn't decide to come out today... My damned car's on the fritz. Stupid electrical problems.
And I've finally gone past my fear of buying stuff for his arrival and did some shopping. G Jr's playpen was falling apart as he was getting too big for it, so I really didn't want to reuse it with GIII. And then Toys R Us had one on sale that has the top cover (which is a good "keep the cats out" cover), so I bit the bullet and bought it. And, on top of having that cover thing, it has one thing I would have given my left eye for when G Jr was an infant - an attachable higher level bottom. You know, like with a crib, where you can have the bottom of it raised higher so you don't have to pretty much get into the thing to get your child out of it? Oh gosh, I would have loved that, at least when I was recovering from the c-section. Remember I'm short... the top of the playpen was level with my scar. I had to get on my tiptoes to get G Jr out of the playpen until he was old enough to sit up.
So, 31 weeks... I'm glad. You know what? I'll shock the heck out of everyone and go to term. Or I'll try. But here's hoping he doesn't decide to come out today... My damned car's on the fritz. Stupid electrical problems.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
The lesser of two evils at this point
Well, it's official. Regardless of the fact that the GNH has said that given GIII's status I can deliver there, I'm going to the place I hate - RAH. Why? Well, let's see...
After all the bullshit yesterday, I was discharged from the hospital by one of my OBGYN's partners. I'm assuming he didn't get the opportunity to tell him that much (as he was just getting into the office after being on call when my appointment came today.) GNH had informed my doctor's office that I had delivered... And not only that, that I discharged myself from the hospital. So here I am, ready to complain about the substandard care I received at the hospital and my OB's ready to tear a strip into me for discharging myself from the hospital hours after delivering! And then he had the adacity to side with the nurses at the hospital, saying that he'll "look into" my complaints, but that they know what they're doing.
At least the RAH is known for it's L&D and NICU. As much as I hate the place, I'll put the extra 20km on my car the next time I go into labour. If this kind of care is what I can expect from the GNH, then that's it.
Pisses me off though... I really liked that place until today. But if that's what I can expect post-natal and they "know what they're doing", then no fucking way am I letting them care for my son.
After all the bullshit yesterday, I was discharged from the hospital by one of my OBGYN's partners. I'm assuming he didn't get the opportunity to tell him that much (as he was just getting into the office after being on call when my appointment came today.) GNH had informed my doctor's office that I had delivered... And not only that, that I discharged myself from the hospital. So here I am, ready to complain about the substandard care I received at the hospital and my OB's ready to tear a strip into me for discharging myself from the hospital hours after delivering! And then he had the adacity to side with the nurses at the hospital, saying that he'll "look into" my complaints, but that they know what they're doing.
At least the RAH is known for it's L&D and NICU. As much as I hate the place, I'll put the extra 20km on my car the next time I go into labour. If this kind of care is what I can expect from the GNH, then that's it.
Pisses me off though... I really liked that place until today. But if that's what I can expect post-natal and they "know what they're doing", then no fucking way am I letting them care for my son.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
I think I jinxed myself
Midnight yesterday. In bed, sweating like usual (it's been warm here lately, and me without A/C). Nose is driving me nuts because of the fan, but there's no way in heck I'm turing it off. Sneezing fit comes on. Then, 5 minutes later, my stomach clenches up like a fist.
GIII is still wiggling and moving, but every now and then it feels like someone's sucking the excess space out of my abdomen and I can feel every little bump, joint and curve he's got. So I do what the nurses tell me to - pee, drink a huge glass of cold water, and lie down for a bit to try to make it go away. Worked the last time...
1:30. I nudge Gunther and tell him I'm heading to the hospital. The cramping hasn't gotten any worse, but it's no better either, and we've passed the 1 hour mark. He asks if I want him to drive me there and I say no, that I'm only going to the GNH which is 5 km away. I get dressed and head over to the emergency department of the hospital, which brings me upstairs to the maternity unit shortly thereafter.
Turns out that my OBGYN is on call that night too, so lucky me, I get to talk to someone I consider compitent. They hook me up to the fetal monitor and sure enough, I'm having very mild, regular contractions. My doctor comes in and reconizes me, and immediately brings the staff up to speed on my history and current state. He does a few tests, the nurses give me something to halt contractions, and they call the RAH to confirm when I was given the steroid shots to help speed up GIII's lung maturity. My cramping slowed down considerably by the time they verified that I was indeed having contractions, and stopped altogether shortly after the nurse gave me the NSAID. But they decided to keep me in for a little while, just incase, because my fFN test came back positive.
And that's when it got fucked up. They brought me up to the post-natal unit (for whatever reason, I'm not even bothering with trying to figure it out anymore), and one woman spent a half hour trying to find a vein in my hand to start an IV in. She then brings in another nurse, who spends another 15 minutes trying to find one, decides to use my right hand instead of my left, pokes and because they've had the tourniquet on for 45 minutes, my vein is super full. So, mess all down my hand, on the floor, and get this, the nurse wasn't even wearing gloves! Sure, I know I haven't got anything contageous, but who's to say she washed her hands well enough after visiting a different patient who may have? I was none too pleased. That was 7:00 this morning, since I had been there at quarter to 2 in the morning. No breakfast (didn't help having an empty stomach when seeing myself squirt blood on the floor), and nothing until lunch, which was served at 1:00.
They hooked me up with antibiotics and when I asked why, they said "Well, it's cause your membranes are ruptured silly!" Uh, no they're not. And they wouldn't take my word, nor check the chart until I told the charge nurse that no, my membranes were intact, and illuded to the fact that I know how to disconnect IV lines correctly. Well lo and behold! My chart actually said what I was saying! Who would have thought that?
The neonatologist came by to talk to me, and was a lot more positive than the rest of them (who still thought that my membranes were ruptured.) Because of GIII's size, gestational age, and the fact that I got the steroid shots, he has a 96% survival rate and will have about the same rate of being perfectly fine as a term infant. And because of that, plus the fact that using medications to halt contractions for too long can have some negative side effects on both me and the little guy, if I come back into the hospital with contractions, they're going to let it go.
I was discharged this evening at 5:00. When everyone realized that not only were the contractions gone but I knew what to do and what to expect, they realized they weren't doing anything (except giving me antibiotics I didn't need, not too thrilled about that one either). GIII's still wiggling, I'm not having any cramping, and I've gone back to sweating in my own house. Oh well. At least now, I know not to plan on a September baby... I don't think he'll make it that long.
GIII is still wiggling and moving, but every now and then it feels like someone's sucking the excess space out of my abdomen and I can feel every little bump, joint and curve he's got. So I do what the nurses tell me to - pee, drink a huge glass of cold water, and lie down for a bit to try to make it go away. Worked the last time...
1:30. I nudge Gunther and tell him I'm heading to the hospital. The cramping hasn't gotten any worse, but it's no better either, and we've passed the 1 hour mark. He asks if I want him to drive me there and I say no, that I'm only going to the GNH which is 5 km away. I get dressed and head over to the emergency department of the hospital, which brings me upstairs to the maternity unit shortly thereafter.
Turns out that my OBGYN is on call that night too, so lucky me, I get to talk to someone I consider compitent. They hook me up to the fetal monitor and sure enough, I'm having very mild, regular contractions. My doctor comes in and reconizes me, and immediately brings the staff up to speed on my history and current state. He does a few tests, the nurses give me something to halt contractions, and they call the RAH to confirm when I was given the steroid shots to help speed up GIII's lung maturity. My cramping slowed down considerably by the time they verified that I was indeed having contractions, and stopped altogether shortly after the nurse gave me the NSAID. But they decided to keep me in for a little while, just incase, because my fFN test came back positive.
And that's when it got fucked up. They brought me up to the post-natal unit (for whatever reason, I'm not even bothering with trying to figure it out anymore), and one woman spent a half hour trying to find a vein in my hand to start an IV in. She then brings in another nurse, who spends another 15 minutes trying to find one, decides to use my right hand instead of my left, pokes and because they've had the tourniquet on for 45 minutes, my vein is super full. So, mess all down my hand, on the floor, and get this, the nurse wasn't even wearing gloves! Sure, I know I haven't got anything contageous, but who's to say she washed her hands well enough after visiting a different patient who may have? I was none too pleased. That was 7:00 this morning, since I had been there at quarter to 2 in the morning. No breakfast (didn't help having an empty stomach when seeing myself squirt blood on the floor), and nothing until lunch, which was served at 1:00.
They hooked me up with antibiotics and when I asked why, they said "Well, it's cause your membranes are ruptured silly!" Uh, no they're not. And they wouldn't take my word, nor check the chart until I told the charge nurse that no, my membranes were intact, and illuded to the fact that I know how to disconnect IV lines correctly. Well lo and behold! My chart actually said what I was saying! Who would have thought that?
The neonatologist came by to talk to me, and was a lot more positive than the rest of them (who still thought that my membranes were ruptured.) Because of GIII's size, gestational age, and the fact that I got the steroid shots, he has a 96% survival rate and will have about the same rate of being perfectly fine as a term infant. And because of that, plus the fact that using medications to halt contractions for too long can have some negative side effects on both me and the little guy, if I come back into the hospital with contractions, they're going to let it go.
I was discharged this evening at 5:00. When everyone realized that not only were the contractions gone but I knew what to do and what to expect, they realized they weren't doing anything (except giving me antibiotics I didn't need, not too thrilled about that one either). GIII's still wiggling, I'm not having any cramping, and I've gone back to sweating in my own house. Oh well. At least now, I know not to plan on a September baby... I don't think he'll make it that long.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
3 Year Old Logic
Gunther Jr.: "Where did the ladybug go?" (pointing to a plant in the flowerbed that had a ladybug on it a few minutes ago)
Mom: "I don't know honey, he probably flew away."
Gunther Jr.: "I like ladybugs."
Mom: "You do, do you?"
Gunther Jr.: "Yeah, I like to squish them."
Mom: "That's not nice! Why would you want to squish ladybugs?"
Gunther Jr.: "But Mom, you have to squish them to see if they have batteries or not."
Mom: "I don't know honey, he probably flew away."
Gunther Jr.: "I like ladybugs."
Mom: "You do, do you?"
Gunther Jr.: "Yeah, I like to squish them."
Mom: "That's not nice! Why would you want to squish ladybugs?"
Gunther Jr.: "But Mom, you have to squish them to see if they have batteries or not."
Monday, July 9, 2007
We're now into single digit waiting numbers
30 weeks. Going well if you ask me. We're out of the woods for a number of problems. GIII's chance of survival is now above 92% if he were to be born. And a small part of me sort of wishes that it would happen. I know, doesn't sound nice, but I'm sick of worrying. The rest of me knows that isn't something to wish for and feels guilty for even thinking of it. But, I've been a bundle of nerves (and understandably so) and honestly? It's getting tiring. Just 10 weeks till term, 9 till the scheduled C-section. I think I can wait. But it's been hard to not worry about every little thing, and harder still for me not to wish that I could breathe easily again.
Mind you, he's growing like mad. Average weight around this time is 3 pounds, and they figure he could be nearly 3 and a half. But another thing that they're freaking out about is that he's head down. Facing the wrong way (he's sticking his butt out, so he's facing my back), but head down. And for whatever reason, they take this as a sign that things might go early. GIII seems to be enjoying stretching out and sticking his butt out just below my ribs, making me look oddly lopsided. Gunther Jr. still hasn't seen him doing his acrobatics, only because he's got the attention span matching his age. If it doesn't happen right when I tell him to look, then he's not going to wait around to see.
And so the fun begins. Gunther Jr. knows his brother's in Mommy's belly, but where's his sister? (He doesn't remember Menerva Jr. I don't think he really knows he had a sister for 2 weeks. But he did want a sister, and I think because he figures he wouldn't have to share his toys.) And how did his brother get in there? (How do you answer that?) And how is he going to get out? I did tell him that a doctor is going to carefully take his brother out of a hole they'll make in my tummy (he was worried that Mommy would have a big owwie, but seemed to be calmed by the fact that he came out the same way and Mommy's fine). However, when Gunther Jr. first started asking all those questions, his Dad told him that there was a zipper... So that one was fun, trying to convince the little guy that no, Mommy did not have a zipper installed anywhere.
Ask G Jr if he's going to help with his little brother, and he's all cheerful and glad to help. I know that'll be short lived. But to hear him tell of it, he's going to teach his little brother everything from how to walk to how to ride a bike. We'll see though. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine had her little girl and we went to visit her in the hospital. Gunther Jr. was all excited to meet the new baby and was telling me on the ride there that he was going to hold her and sing songs. Mind you, when we got there, he was absolutely shocked with how small she was, and was too scared to come too close. Not like I would have let him hold her (love my boy, but I've seen what kind of damage he can do to his toys), but I crouched down to show him my friend's little girl, and Gunther Jr got all quiet.
"She's small Mommy."
"Yes honey, all babies are small. You were small like this once."
"What happened?"
"You grew up. All babies grow up. They don't stay small forever."
"Is my brother small?"
"Yes hon, and he'll get big just like you as he gets older."
"I was small?"
"Yes you were."
"Was Daddy small too?"
"Yep, when he was a baby, he was small like this too. So was Mommy."
"Wow."
I still don't think he gets the idea that he was small. He's seen pictures of himself when he was a baby (and refers to them as "Baby Gunther Jr." or "Me when I was a baby" but never as just himself), and he's seen babies before (my friend's child was the first newborn he's met). But as far as he's concerned, he's growing, but he's always been that size. Well, he can't remember that far back, so it's understandable. Boy is having a little baby around going to be a shocker for him. Aparently he's been telling all his friends at daycare about how he's going to have a new brother soon. And how his Mommy's going to have a hole cut in her tummy to get his brother out... The daycare staff think its cute, and haven't given him or us heck for that information circulating around the place. Gunther Jr. knows that when Mommy goes in to the hospital to have GIII, the doctors are going to make sure that I'm fine and not in pain (that was one of the things he's asked about). And that they're going to stitch the hole closed after so it goes away. Mind you, he doesn't seem to get that this will happen in September, cause every time I go in for a doctor's appointment or an ultrasound (so, twice a week), he asks if they're taking his brother out.
It's going to be interesting, two boys in this house... And when I get that urge to want things to be over sooner than later, I just remind myself of what's going to possibly happen when GIII's born, and how G Jr. is going to react to not being the only child anymore... Then I could cheerfully stay in this state for another year.
Mind you, he's growing like mad. Average weight around this time is 3 pounds, and they figure he could be nearly 3 and a half. But another thing that they're freaking out about is that he's head down. Facing the wrong way (he's sticking his butt out, so he's facing my back), but head down. And for whatever reason, they take this as a sign that things might go early. GIII seems to be enjoying stretching out and sticking his butt out just below my ribs, making me look oddly lopsided. Gunther Jr. still hasn't seen him doing his acrobatics, only because he's got the attention span matching his age. If it doesn't happen right when I tell him to look, then he's not going to wait around to see.
And so the fun begins. Gunther Jr. knows his brother's in Mommy's belly, but where's his sister? (He doesn't remember Menerva Jr. I don't think he really knows he had a sister for 2 weeks. But he did want a sister, and I think because he figures he wouldn't have to share his toys.) And how did his brother get in there? (How do you answer that?) And how is he going to get out? I did tell him that a doctor is going to carefully take his brother out of a hole they'll make in my tummy (he was worried that Mommy would have a big owwie, but seemed to be calmed by the fact that he came out the same way and Mommy's fine). However, when Gunther Jr. first started asking all those questions, his Dad told him that there was a zipper... So that one was fun, trying to convince the little guy that no, Mommy did not have a zipper installed anywhere.
Ask G Jr if he's going to help with his little brother, and he's all cheerful and glad to help. I know that'll be short lived. But to hear him tell of it, he's going to teach his little brother everything from how to walk to how to ride a bike. We'll see though. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine had her little girl and we went to visit her in the hospital. Gunther Jr. was all excited to meet the new baby and was telling me on the ride there that he was going to hold her and sing songs. Mind you, when we got there, he was absolutely shocked with how small she was, and was too scared to come too close. Not like I would have let him hold her (love my boy, but I've seen what kind of damage he can do to his toys), but I crouched down to show him my friend's little girl, and Gunther Jr got all quiet.
"She's small Mommy."
"Yes honey, all babies are small. You were small like this once."
"What happened?"
"You grew up. All babies grow up. They don't stay small forever."
"Is my brother small?"
"Yes hon, and he'll get big just like you as he gets older."
"I was small?"
"Yes you were."
"Was Daddy small too?"
"Yep, when he was a baby, he was small like this too. So was Mommy."
"Wow."
I still don't think he gets the idea that he was small. He's seen pictures of himself when he was a baby (and refers to them as "Baby Gunther Jr." or "Me when I was a baby" but never as just himself), and he's seen babies before (my friend's child was the first newborn he's met). But as far as he's concerned, he's growing, but he's always been that size. Well, he can't remember that far back, so it's understandable. Boy is having a little baby around going to be a shocker for him. Aparently he's been telling all his friends at daycare about how he's going to have a new brother soon. And how his Mommy's going to have a hole cut in her tummy to get his brother out... The daycare staff think its cute, and haven't given him or us heck for that information circulating around the place. Gunther Jr. knows that when Mommy goes in to the hospital to have GIII, the doctors are going to make sure that I'm fine and not in pain (that was one of the things he's asked about). And that they're going to stitch the hole closed after so it goes away. Mind you, he doesn't seem to get that this will happen in September, cause every time I go in for a doctor's appointment or an ultrasound (so, twice a week), he asks if they're taking his brother out.
It's going to be interesting, two boys in this house... And when I get that urge to want things to be over sooner than later, I just remind myself of what's going to possibly happen when GIII's born, and how G Jr. is going to react to not being the only child anymore... Then I could cheerfully stay in this state for another year.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
I'm melting!!!
29 weeks... 10 more to go really, given the scheduled c-section. And this week is supposed to be in the mid to high 20's. I swear, GIII is a little heater. My blood pressure is well within norms, even in the evening, and it's the evening and overnight that I seem to feel overheated. Last night I slept with an ice pack on the back of my neck in attempts to cool myself down so I could sleep... And that didn't work until 3 this morning, and that's after the ice pack got to room temp.
I've been doing my best to keep cool, considering early in the morning Saturday I had nasty abdominal cramps because of it. Not quite contractions, but not exactly your run-of-the-mill upset tummy either. That took a huge glass of cold water and an hour of relaxing to get rid of (and GIII kept wiggling as normal through them, so I doubt he cared or was affected.) But I don't feel like going through that one again.
Gunther is doing his best not to get too excited about GIII... I think it's because of Menerva Jr. He doesn't want to get his hopes up and find out that things don't work out. Can't say as I blame him, but it's getting a little difficult for me not to get a little excited. I can feel the little guy move, grow, hiccup (although that hasn't happened nearly as often as it did with his brother)... He's more removed from it, and I think that's where his safety zone lies. I know that once GIII's born and all's declaired fine, he'll be beaming and happy and whatnot. Just right now, he's trying not to. Wish I could do that... Not nearly as much as I wish I could cool off... If it wasn't for the fact I'm sure I'd have to spend a week at a chiropractor's office, I'd sleep on the cement floor in the basement.
Oh well. We're just going to have to move where there's more lakes to swim in...
I've been doing my best to keep cool, considering early in the morning Saturday I had nasty abdominal cramps because of it. Not quite contractions, but not exactly your run-of-the-mill upset tummy either. That took a huge glass of cold water and an hour of relaxing to get rid of (and GIII kept wiggling as normal through them, so I doubt he cared or was affected.) But I don't feel like going through that one again.
Gunther is doing his best not to get too excited about GIII... I think it's because of Menerva Jr. He doesn't want to get his hopes up and find out that things don't work out. Can't say as I blame him, but it's getting a little difficult for me not to get a little excited. I can feel the little guy move, grow, hiccup (although that hasn't happened nearly as often as it did with his brother)... He's more removed from it, and I think that's where his safety zone lies. I know that once GIII's born and all's declaired fine, he'll be beaming and happy and whatnot. Just right now, he's trying not to. Wish I could do that... Not nearly as much as I wish I could cool off... If it wasn't for the fact I'm sure I'd have to spend a week at a chiropractor's office, I'd sleep on the cement floor in the basement.
Oh well. We're just going to have to move where there's more lakes to swim in...
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